


Falling to Pieces

by cliffhanging



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: AU where Ed is still two people, Autoerotic Asphyxiation, But not erotic for Oswald, Dark Edward Nygma, Election era, Gen, M/M, Minor Violence, Only for Ed, Sexual Assault, This is not Happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-23
Updated: 2019-05-23
Packaged: 2020-03-10 02:34:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18929539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cliffhanging/pseuds/cliffhanging
Summary: Edward realizes that Oswald killed Isabella.





	Falling to Pieces

It's many days later that Ed finally figures out the truth. He’s at home, waiting for Oswald to return so that the two of them may share a late dinner together. Something he’d honestly been looking forward to. Everything had thus far been so perfect, and Ed had assumed that he had at last re-found his footing in this wretched, unfair world with the help of the Penguin.

He should have known. Oh, he truly should have known! How hadn’t he known? All this time, and after putting himself to so much effort, culminating into a real desire to satisfy Oswald’s needs, even simply to see him smile joyfully… it had all been for the very man who had murdered his Isabella. 

When the despair following the realization begins to overwhelm him, Ed leaves and has a mental breakdown in the bathroom closest to the kitchen. He grips the sink so tightly and stares himself down in the mirror, yet is unable to see himself. The sensations that start to come over him then are familiar, but cramped up and taut inside of his skull as if from disuse, tingling through him painfully slow like blood circulating after being cut off for so much time. It flows down his back, and suddenly he can see himself again, but the reflection is no longer himself as he knows himself to be. Edward is here… Edward is here, and oh, he’s angry, glowering malevolently at Ed from the mirror. Ed feels he is looking at someone through a window, rather than at himself in a reflection.

"Just look at you. Have you really given up all your dignity for this man?" Edward finally sneers.

"No," Ed replies shakily. His hands are trembling as he reaches to adjust his glasses back up his face, from where his cold sweat was making them fall. "I... I care about him. I want to do what makes him happy. I'm- I'm proud to be his friend. I believe in him." As he is saying it, he believes it. He loves Oswald, he truly does.

"And why?" Edward spat. "You're just going to let him do whatever he wants to you and not retaliate? Don't be pathetic!"

Edward whirls around and away from the mirror, swinging his hand into something that falls to the floor and shatters, but Ed doesn't look to see what. He's too tied up in his own mind to see anything. He hasn't been this out of control since way back, when he still worked for the GCPD, when he'd been ignored and made fun of and Kristen wouldn't even pay him any attention and—

"You got him to where he is today. You don't need him. He doesn't care about you like you think he does," Edward murmurs from behind him, in front of him, all around him. "He puts his own emotions before your well-being. You had a second chance with her, and things could have gone so well, things could have gotten better."

"No," Ed whispers brokenly, pressing his palm down onto the counter beside him and lowering his head. "It wouldn't have worked..."

"Who's to say it wouldn't have?" Edward asked.

Ed shakes his head, eyes clenched tight. “Things are already better. There’s no need for change now.”

“Think about it logically, Ed. Knowing what he’s done, is this really the life you want to continue leading…? A life customized to his desires, and his desires only?”

…Maybe he’s right. Maybe… he should listen to himself. He feels deeply hurt, and he knows who the culprit is, who is at fault. Edward has gone silent, yet determination slowly fills him. He lifts his head, slides his hand off the counter, and straightens. His eyes gleam. His composure has returned abruptly. He goes back to the dining room in his newly serene state and waits.

~

Ed decides to tell Oswald over dinner, so it won't be so easy for him to run away. He uses simple words, and only three of them, so that they cannot be altered or skewed, and right as Oswald has tucked into dessert.

"Oswald. I know."

Oswald pauses and swallows audibly, his hand nervously reaching and caressing the top of his cane, but he puts on a smile. "Whatever are you talking about, Ed?"

Edward looks up from Oswald’s antsy hand to his face, examining the features closely before he speaks again.

"You killed Isabella."

There's a moment of silence, where Oswald’s eyes widen, and his mouth drops open in shock. 

"What?" Oswald blubbers out, jolting to his feet so fast that his bad leg gives out, and he has to lean on his cane. The falsified extravagance of it is enough for Edward’s heart to clench up, with anger, with a desire to hurt. It's enough to confirm everything that he had been so blind to before. He pushes those emotions away, though. He loves Oswald, and the good side of him feels sick at the darker part of him that wants to punch the shorter man in the face as hard as possible, just to knock him to the floor, to saw into him until he screams bloody murder...

No. Stop thinking about it.

"Don't freak out," Edward instead says, his voice surprisingly soft, given his inner turmoil. "I only wish to talk; nothing more.” He doesn’t. He wishes to do much more than talk. 

Oswald gapes for a moment, jittery and unsure what to do with himself. Edward trails his eyes down the man, seeing that every line of him is tensed, ready to take action.

Edward stares hard into Oswald’s eyes, his expression otherwise neutral. "Please sit down, Oswald."

Oswald’s jaw clacks shut, and he slowly wilts back into his chair, still clutching his cane like a lifeline. A very heavy silence indeed descends upon them. “Ed, I… I don’t know what to say,” Oswald finally admits, his voice hollow and shaken. He is barely meeting Edward’s eyes from beneath lashes thickened with his makeup. He looks so oddly demure. Edward feels himself cocking his head, curious and interested at this, but he keeps himself on track. The itching in his skull is building.

“Perhaps you could start with a simple explanation,” Edward suggests, tone almost kind. Contradictory, considering the subject matter. He can tell that it makes Oswald’s hair stand up, makes him squirm in his chair.

“I... I don’t know what you want me to say,” he stammers out, flustered and repeating himself. Amusing yet enraging.

“Well, you do owe me something.”

Oswald freezes at that, panic briefly entering his eyes. “I don’t owe anyone anything,” he says, defensive and nervous. Borne of insecurity. He takes a firmer hold of his cane, drawing in close to himself, his eyes wildly darting towards the dining room’s only exit. “I think this meal is over—"

Edward stands with a swift fluidity. “You will listen to me, Oswald,” he commands, calm and firm. “We’re not finished here.”

Oswald surges back to his own feet almost as soon as Edward does, again needing to lend some support from his cane, face blotchy with indignance. “Do not presume to be able to tell me what to do!” he squawks. 

Edward simply raises an eyebrow, the first traces of a smile tugging his mouth. He’s got this bird cornered, both figuratively and literally. “I’ll presume as much as I’d like.” He steps around his end of the table, drawing slowly and steadily towards Oswald, eyes locked with his. “I built you, built all of this for you. You owe me more than you’d ever admit.” Once he has reached an uncomfortably close proximity to Oswald, he stops, looming over him. 

Oswald keeps his eyes on Edward’s, but now he must tilt his head backwards to do so. He is silent, and Edward sees his hands trembling. The refusal to speak wakes something very ugly in Edward indeed.

With a speed that surprises even himself, he grabs Oswald by his lapels and slams him to the nearest wall, crowding in so close that their chests are touching, knees pressed together. Oswald can only gasp, trying to regain the breath he’d lost. His cane has been sent clattering across the floor, out of reach. “Ed—what are you—”

Edward’s hand drags itself up Oswald’s chest, and suddenly his long fingers are wrapped around the shorter man’s neck, squeezing hard enough for a choked wheeze to escape Oswald’s throat before his air is cut off completely, and his mouth silently and involuntarily falls open. His eyes are wide as he gazes up at Edward, his mascara-coated lashes trembling. He isn’t even fighting back.

Edward leans down and in until his lips are nearly brushing Oswald’s, and the other man strains to lean away, but his head is already pushed into the wall, there's nowhere for him to go. It's absolutely delicious.

"Perhaps it's only fair... Since you took something so special from me, that I take something of high value from you. An eye for an eye, you see?"

Oswald is squirming desperately now, like a rabbit caught in a snare, and Edward’s blood boils with excitement. He squeezes Oswald’s neck harder, and Oswald flinches again, his wide eyes clenching shut. Edward can feel desperate noises under his palm, sitting at the back of Oswald’s throat, blocked from escape, and, after choking Oswald a little longer, releases enough pressure for the shorter man to be able to suck in a greedy breath, and then cough violently, his own hands clawing weakly at Edward’s wrist. 

"Ed, please," Oswald's voice is scratchy, and his eyes still hazy, "think about what you're doing- we can talk about this issue civilly!"

Edward is barely listening. He loves the feeling of Oswald’s muscles tensing and straining against him, loves having to press his frame up against Oswald’s in order to still him. Loves the startled breath that Oswald sucks in upon the contact, and how he stills, almost as if hypnotized. 

"No," Edward all but whispers, his lips brushing tantalizingly across the shell of Oswald’s ear, causing him to give a meek little shiver. "We can't. There's nothing more to say. You're selfish, Oswald. Don't deny it. You’ve proven that."

"Please, Ed... Please listen to me, you must know that I… I did it for you," Oswald whimpers, his hands still clutched loosely around Edward’s wrist.

Edward tilts his head as if in curiosity. "Oh! Did you now?" He exclaims, a little yip of laughter escaping him. "And what has her death done for me so far, Oswald?"

“Look where you are now,” Oswald grinds out, words suddenly spilling forth with irritation, “look at the success you’ve garnered! She would have made you soft! You’re so much better at my side than at hers!”

“Your success, not mine,” Edward growls, shaking Oswald viciously. “Don’t act as if you’ve ever done any of this out of anything besides selfishness. You would be lying. I can read you perfectly, Oswald.”

"Get off of me, or you’ll regret it," Oswald says quietly, though the tone is deadly. He is glaring up at Edward in an almost petulant manner.

Edward tightens his hold again, sealing that deceitful throat off from speech. “Not until you’ve given me what you owe. In fact, I think I’ll have you pay your due, right here and now.”

“What are you talking about?” Oswald spits. “If you kill me now, you’ll regret it, I swear to you!”

“This isn’t about killing you. Not at all.” Edward’s smirk is slow and deliberate as he leans closer. "It’s about me making you suffer, and enjoying it.” 

Oswald flinches at the crude words. He's too shocked to formulate any sort of response, let alone a snarky one, and Edward holds in a bubble of laughter at the reaction. Oswald’s eyes are rampant with a mounting horror. Edward wants to see it reach its apex.

He squeezes Oswald’s neck hard now and shakes him again, as if he’s wrestling a cobra, and lets the rage pour over every surface of him. He can physically feel it, almost see the film of it as it drips over his eyes and turns his vision red. 

Oswald is making choked, dying sounds and fighting in earnest now, clawing at Edward’s arm and thrashing, but quickly growing weak. His eyes begin to roll back into his skull, struggles turning feeble, lips turning pale. Edward's not sure how he can see that, through all the red. He finds himself panting as he stares at the choked-out expression, heat suddenly rushing south, excitement mounting, and before he knows it he’s incredibly hard. He crushes his pelvis to Oswald’s automatically, rubbing up against him like a horny cat. Oswald manages to keen, though Edward can’t tell if it’s in pleasure or the opposite.

Once he knows that Oswald has had enough, Edward slowly releases his constricting hold on the man’s neck. Oswald gasps in air desperately, going limp against the wall as his chest heaves. Tears dribble from his eyes when he blinks, some clinging to his lashes. He stares hazily up at Edward. “I thought… this wasn’t about killing me…”

Edward snickers, still slightly breathless himself. “It isn’t.”

“You’re getting off on this…” Oswald whimpers.

He’s amused by Oswald’s accusation. Ruts up against him again, nearly lifting the man off his feet in his enthusiasm, and Oswald whines. “You are too, aren’t you.”

“You need to stop this,” Oswald rasps, trying and failing to come back to himself. The cloudiness in his eyes has Edward salivating with the need for more. He wants to choke Oswald until the man is drooling and blue, and then until his gaze is sightless and dull. Then he wants to fuck him. 

Edward’s excitement reaches a ravenous peak.

But then… Rationality sets in. It would just be too easy. Too simple. What would be the point in doing this Oswald, when he could have him take a loan out on his payment, and come to him willingly? So much is in the balance, especially now… He could expend his pleasure immediately, or draw it out for as long as he might desire.

The film of rage leaves Edward, and he steps back.

Oswald nearly falls flat on his face, but catches himself against the wall, knees trembling with the effort. He just looks at Edward, expression impossible to read, neck ringed with vivid red welts where the other’s fingers had been. Debauched.

Ed is smiling serenely again. He’s soothed. He’s sated. For the moment. “You _owe_ me, Oswald,” he says. His voice echoes in the empty dining room. “Remember that.”

**Author's Note:**

> I stopped watching the show ages ago and I basically kinda forgot most of the plot, but I still wanted to finish this so I kept it quite vague, just focused on the emotions. Makes it a bit nonsensical but wtv. Hope u like


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